


Something Romantic

by ljs



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-19
Updated: 2010-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 00:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljs/pseuds/ljs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set not too long after Return of the Jedi.</p><p>Han Solo is not the most romantic of men, he would admit (if you got him drunk enough, and if his Wookiee best friend was pouring the drinks). But he's willing to give it the old space-pirate try, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Romantic

Han Solo is not the most romantic of men, he would admit (if you got him drunk enough, and if his Wookiee best friend was pouring the drinks). But he's willing to give it the old space-pirate try, anyway --

 

Until there's a crash, and a leap to try to rescue crushed flowers, and a muttered “Damn it to the fucking five moons.”

 

“Which five moons?” comes an ordinarily welcome voice from the doorway – a voice which Han does not want to hear right now.

 

Trying to hide the damage, he summons up his best horse-trading-without-a-blaster smile. “Hey, princess. You got done with the yack-yacking already?”

 

Leia leans against the doorjamb – exhausted, not faking it, Han sees – and sends back a smile, just a little twisted. “Only you, flyboy. Only you would call the diplomatic work of making new alliances 'yack-yacking.'”

 

“Call 'em as I see 'em. And don't forget I'm a general now,” he says. Behind his back, the Terran flowers he managed to scoop up are dripping water on his hand. “You're early, Leia.”

 

“Yes.” She pushes herself up. Not exhausted, but sad... “My yack-yacking wasn't good enough today.”

 

Han forgets his own disasters, and plunges toward her. “Aww, c'mere, sweetheart.”

 

She goes with only the slightest resistance into his arms, and he nestles her against his heart. She murmurs, “It was a fucking crash landing, is what it was.”

 

“Um...” He thinks she's talking about the broken vase, but then he gets it, and brings her closer. “Where'd you learn to talk like that?” he says, his lips moving sweetly against her temple.

 

“Sleeping with a scoundrel has taught me all kinds of things.” She can't quite manage a laugh. “And what's getting my second-best robe all wet?”

 

“Shit.” He pulls the flowers away from her robe too late. Well, hyperdrive into trouble, that's his motto -- “For you!”

 

She turns, still in his one-armed embrace, and inspects the half-broken blossoms, scattering droplets of purple plant-juice across the floor of her quarters. “What's this for, Han?”

 

“Dunno. Just... you, I guess.” He smiles down at her. “Trying to do something nice, screwing it up. As usual.”

 

She reaches up and teases her fingertip against his lip, which might be sticking out just a bit, just a little pouty. “General Solo, you don't _usually_ screw up. Only sometimes.”

 

“Thanks, princess.”

 

Sighing, she rubs her head against his shoulder – which reminds them both that her hair's in those painful coiled braids she wears for official business. He leaps into action --

“Take these,” he says commandingly, and once he's transferred the flowers to her hand, he leads her to the long, low sofa positioned in front of their window on the stars. He arranges them on the sofa – he her bulwark, her safe space to lean on; she letting go of it all – and then raises his hands to her hair.

 

Those pilot's fingers know how to navigate tricky paths, how to make it all better. He knows how to release each pin without hurting her, how to ease her out of her diplomat's armor into her private self.

 

Brown locks fall, one, then another, then another. She begins to sigh again, in contentment, in love. That's what he can do for her.

 

Han Solo is not the most romantic of men. But he can damn well keep his princess happy.


End file.
